Startled into forgetfulness of what it was she held, Miss Bewicke dropped the slippery basin from her hands. It broke into fragments with a clatter. The noise of the shattered ware seemed actually to penetrate to Mr Holland's consciousness. Miss Bewicke would always have it that it was her breaking the basin which really brought him back to life. In an instant Miss Broad was half beside herself in a frenzy of excitement.
'May! May! he lives! Guy! Guy!'
Miss Bewicke, turning, saw that he was alive, but that, apparently, when that was said, one had said all.
CHAPTER XVIII
[REINFORCED]
Mr Holland had opened his eyes; he had done nothing more. The movement might have been owing to an involuntary contraction of the muscles, so rigid did his attitude continue to be, so apparently unseeing were the staring pupils. But, for the instant, it was sufficient for Miss Broad that he had shown signs of volition even to so small an extent. She bent over the bed, addressing him by a dozen endearing epithets.
'Guy! My darling! my love! my dear! Don't you know me? It's Letty--your own Letty! Speak to me! Guy! Guy!'
But he did not speak. Nor was it possible, to judge from any responsive action on his part that he even heard. His continual unnatural rigidity cooled the first ardour of the lady's joy. She addressed Miss Bewicke. And now the tears were streaming down her cheeks.
'May, come here! Look at Guy! Get him to speak to me!'
To enforce compliance with her wish was not so easy, as Miss Bewicke saw, if the other did not. There was an uncanny look about Mr Holland's whole appearance which was not reassuring. He looked far indeed from the capacity for reasonable speech.